Shadows of the Past
by demonchild1856
Summary: Remember Jack had a daughter? Here's a story about her! Devon Cavanaugh, as she was named after the divorce at the age of two, becomes a detective for the 27th and learns more about her past than she expected. Please R&R! (THIRD CHAPTER UP!)
1. Crime

  Ch. 1: Crime

          Devon Cavanaugh, a toughened cop and newly-promoted detective, drove up to her first homicide, yawning and blowing on her coffee.  She knew the streets of New York pretty well, but even if she didn't, all she had to do was look for the sirens and flashing lights and she would know where to head for the murder.

          Yellow crime scene tape lined the sidewalk outside the apartment where the victim was.  After flashing her badge to the patrol at the front, she headed up to the third floor and into room 3A.  Several CSI's were crawling around, collecting evidence and taking pictures.  The medical examiner was looking over the body.

          "So, what went down here?" she asked, walking up next to her new partner.

          He turned to look at her.  Tall, black, with a goatee and very nice eyes, he looked at her quizzically.  "Do you have permission to be here?" he asked.

          Devon pulled her badge again and hooked it through the strap on her jacket.  "Detective Devon Cavanaugh. You must be Detective Green." She extended her hand.  "Nice to meet you," she said.

          "Very," Ed replied, smiling.  "You look kind of young to be a detective, though.  What precinct did you transfer from?"  
          "The one-three; I was there for seven years. I think they were getting sick of me.  So they called Van Buren and asked her to take me," Devon explained.

          "Oh," Ed said.  "Well, to answer your question, the DOA's name is Jennifer Robbins, age thirty-two.  Cause of death is one massive blow to the back of the head."

          "And the weapon of choice?" Devon asked.

          "Mickey Mouse," Ed replied, pointing to the coffee table, where a bronze statue of Mickey was covered in dried blood.

          "I'll never look at that mouse the same way again," Devon said, crouching down to get a closer look at the body.  "Seems like she got kicked a few times, too."  She pointed a gloved finger at the boot marks on the girl's side.

          "The ME said that the perp probably kicked her before he killed her, or there wouldn't have been much bruising," Ed explained.

          Devon nodded.  She remembered seeing a body similar to this before, but she shook the image out of her head.  It was part of her past and she didn't want to remember it.  "Do we have any witnesses?" she asked.

          Ed nodded.  "The girl next door said that she heard fighting around midnight," he replied.

          "What did the ME give for time of death?"

          "Somewhere between ten PM and one AM."

          "Not many people argue with dead bodies," Devon said, getting up and pulling off her gloves.  "She must have died after twelve."  She headed towards the door with her memo pad and pen ready.

          "Where are you going?" Ed asked.

          "To ask a few more questions," she replied.  She walked out into the hallway and banged on the door to 3B.

          "Yeah?" the young woman asked, opening the door.

          "Detective Cavanaugh, NYPD," Devon said.

          "Someone already asked me some questions-"

          "I'm just here to ask a little more," Devon said.  "You mentioned to the other officers that you heard shouting around midnight?"

          "Yeah, that's right," the girl replied, pulling her bathrobe tighter.

          "Was that when it started, or when you first heard it?" Devon asked.

          "That's when it started.  I figured she was having another argument with her boyfriend," she explained.

          "Did you happen to see the boyfriend?" Devon asked, raising an eyebrow.

          The young woman nodded.  "Around eleven o'clock, I was coming back from a club.  A guy was coming up behind me, asking where Jenny's apartment was.  So I told him," she replied, wringing her hands.

          "Did he mention his name?"

          "No, but I heard Jenny say it once he was inside.  Eric," the woman said.

          "Do you remember what he looked like?" Devon asked, scribbling down everything she told her.

          "Umm…sandy hair in a bowl-cut, dark eyes, tall, wearing a leather jacket.  Mid-thirties," the girl said.  "That's all I can remember."

          "Well, if you think of anything else, call us," Devon said, handing the young woman one of her newly-printed business cards.  "Thanks for your help."  The woman nodded and shut the door; Devon walked back over to Ed, who was speaking with a CSI.

          "You find anything besides what we already know?" he asked, turning to her.

          "What did we already know?" Devon retorted.

          Ed raised an eyebrow at her.  "That our victim had somebody over around eleven," he said.  "That's it.  What'd you get?"

          "That our victim had a boyfriend named Eric, who was in his mid-thirties, with sandy bowl-cut hair, dark eyes, and was tall," Devon explained.

          "Impressive," Ed said quietly.  "We can get a sketch of him by tomorrow and then show our witness."

          "Yeah," Devon said.  "You might also want to check for M.O.'s similar to this one.  Could give us a heads up on what we might be missing."

          Ed nodded and walked down the stairwell. 


	2. Investigation

Ch 2: Investigation

          "The neighbor has a name!  It's Mary Hannigan," Devon said.  "Age thirty, works at Eddie's Pub and Pool as a bartender from twelve to ten PM."

          "We can pass the picture around the bar.  Maybe Mary brought Jennifer there every once in a while," Ed said.  "Did she ID the photograph?"

          Devon nodded.  "She said that was exactly what he looked like.  She also says that he was a regular at the bar and…she introduced him to our vic," she explained, raising an eyebrow.

          "Then she must know his last name, right?" Ed asked.

          Devon shook her head.  "She swears she never heard it.  But he had a bar tab.  Paid on his credit card, too," she said.

          "Did you get the receipt?"

          Devon nodded and showed her partner the number and the name she wrote down.  "Eric Mathus."

          "The dumb ass used it last night?" Ed asked.  "Doesn't he know we're looking for him?"  
          "Apparently not," Devon said.  "But then again, isn't the goal of serial killers to _be_ caught?"

          Ed shrugged and said, "I'm going to see if this guy has any priors."  He typed the name into the computer.  Devon came around to look at the screen when it came up with a record.

          "Aggravated assault," Devon said, folding her arms.  "Sounds like he would be right on the money for a murderer."

          Ed nodded in agreement.  "Did you check for other similar M.O.'s?" he asked.

          Devon walked back over to her desk and pulled out a piece of paper.  "Ten years ago a woman named Jillian Cavanaugh was killed in the same way," she replied.  She handed Ed the autopsy report.

          Ed looked over Jennifer Robbins' autopsy and compared it to the one Devon gave him.  "Was she related to you?" he asked.

          "Half – sister.  I was charged with her murder, but the jury didn't convict me," Devon said.  "Some evidence turned up that proved it wasn't me."

          "What was the evidence?" Ed asked, interested in his partner's previous history with the law.

          "A fiber and a piece of hair, neither of which belonged to me," Devon replied.

          "Why did they think you did it?" Ed asked as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand.

          "Because my prints were everywhere.  The room she was found in used to belong to me until I moved to Boston so I could take classes at Harvard.  I found Jillian lying on the floor," Devon explained.

          "Wrong place, wrong time, right?" Ed said.  Devon nodded.  "Well, I'm sorry about her."

          "Thanks," Devon said.

          "Who prosecuted you?" Ed asked, taking a coffee from Lieutenant Anita Van Buren, who had just arrived from her lunch break.

          "Some big – time jerk named McCoy," Devon replied.  Ed almost spit out his coffee at the mention of the name.  "What?" Devon asked.

          "Er…" Ed itched behind his ear.

          "McCoy wants a status report, pronto," Anita said, smiling as Devon's face dropped.

          "You're kidding, right?" she asked.  "Jack McCoy is our A.D.A?"

          "Yep," Anita said.

          "This is going to be interesting," Ed said, laughing.  "I wonder if he'll remember you."

           Devon shook her head.  "Damn right it's going to be interesting," she sighed, running her fingers through her brown hair.

          Anita smiled again.  "He wants you two in his office at the end of the week with all the evidence you have so far," she said.

          "Oh, fun," Devon said.  "What the hell does that mean, with all the evidence we have? It's the beginning of the case! We hardly have anything!"

          "It means, we put everything we _do _have into a nice manila folder and take a nice joyride in a Ford P.O.S. to the D.A.'s office," Ed explained, smiling.  Devon couldn't help but laugh.


	3. Evidence

Ch. 3: Evidence

          The end of the week came very quickly for Ed and Devon, considering that they had no leads to go with and no idea where Mathus was.

          "Just don't bring it up," Ed said to Devon as the elevator door opened.

          "What if he mentions it first?" Devon asked nervously.

          "Then answer very briefly," Ed answered, knocking on McCoy's door.

          "Come in!" his scratchy voice called from inside the office.

          Ed opened the door and walked in, letting Devon follow him in.  Jack looked up and gave a funny half-smile to the detectives.

          "You filled Lennie's position already?" he asked, standing up.

          Ed nodded.  "Devon, Jack McCoy.  Mr. McCoy,--"

          "Devon Cavanaugh," she said, shaking the prosecutor's hand.  "Nice to meet you, sir."

          "Cavanaugh…that name sounds familiar," Jack said.

          "Well, you--" Devon stopped.  "It's a very common Irish name," she said, covering herself.

          Jack smiled.  "So, what do you two have for me?" he asked, sitting back down behind his desk.

          Ed handed Devon the file.  "Basically, we have a suspect we can't find," she said bluntly.  "Eric Mathus.  We have tabs on his credit cards and bank accounts.  The other precincts have a picture of him just in case."

          "We don't have any leads, though," Ed added in.  Jack slouched back in his chair.

          "I have a hunch," Devon said.

          "Do tell," Jack said, throwing his feet up onto his desk.

          Devon stood up and paced.  "Ten years ago, a woman was murdered out in the country.  Same M.O. as Jennifer Robbins; one massive blow to the back of the skull.  Case went unsolved," she stated.

          "Where are you going with this, Devon?" Jack asked.

          Devon's eyes widened briefly.  "Well, Mathus was dating Jennifer Robbins for two months.  Maybe he dated this other woman for two months.  Maybe he has a pattern," she explained.  "Give me a day or two to talk to the girl's parents and see what they remember.  Maybe they have a picture or something."

          Jack considered it.  "Go ahead.  But I want to see results by Monday," he said.

          "Thanks," Devon said.

                   ~                          ~                          ~

          "Who's this 'other girl' you're talking about?" Ed asked once they were back at the station.

          "My sister," Devon said, sighing.  "Mind if I borrow the car?  It's only an hour drive to my parent's house."

          "I'll come with you," Ed said.  "Better than being stuck here with nothing to do."

          Devon laughed.  "I get to drive," she said, grabbing the key and heading back onto the sidewalk.

          "Detectives!" an officer yelled, chasing them down.

          "Yeah?" Ed asked, turning around.

          "We just got a hit on Mathus.  He's up in Boston," the officer explained.

          "You go to your parents'.  I'll take this," Ed said, hurrying back into the precinct.

          "Good luck!" Devon yelled, and got into the car.  She peeled away from the curb and drove off to her parent's house.

          Every time Devon blinked, she could see blurry images of her mother and father.  She saw the haunting images of brown eyes and a warm smile that she thought she had forgotten as a child.  She hadn't seen her father since she was three.  She shook her head and pulled into the driveway of her mother's house.

          "Devon?" her mother asked, stepping out onto the porch.  "What are you doing here?"

          Devon smiled and walked up to her mother, hugging her.  "I'm with the police, Mom.  I'm a detective," she aid, showing her mother her badge.

          "Oh really?" Devon's stepfather, Steven, asked, stepping out onto the porch.  "What do the police want with us?"  
          "I'm actually here about Jillian," Devon said.

          "What do you want to know?" her mother asked.

          "Was she dating anyone before it happened?  They would have been going out for two months," Devon answered.

          Her mother shook her head.  "She never mentioned his name, but we found a picture of the two of them in her room.  I'll go get it," she said, hurrying up to Jillian's old room and running back down with a black picture frame in her hand.  "Here it is." She handed the picture to Devon.

          Devon pulled the photo out of the frame and looked it over.  Jillian was smiling, as usual.  Eric Mathus was standing next to her, his arm wrapped around her.  "Mom, can I borrow this?" Devon asked.

          "Will I get it back?" Mom asked, following her daughter down the stairs.

          "I don't know if you're going to want it back," Devon said, unlocking the car door.

          "Devon, what's this all about?" Steven asked.

          She sighed and leaned on the car.  "We may be onto Jillian's killer," she said before getting into the car and driving away.

                   ~                          ~                          ~

          "He's not talking.  He wants his lawyer," Ed was explaining as Devon walked back into the station.  He looked up.  "How'd it go?"

          Devon held up the photo.  "Look familiar?" she asked.

          "Very," Ed replied, pointing through the mirror glass to the man sitting in the interrogation room.

          "Freaking bastard should rot in hell," Devon cursed, handing the photo to Anita.

          "Well, McCoy will have no trouble making sure that he does.  He actually called here; wanted to tell you that he wants you to make a poster for him to see so he can understand where you're coming from with your hunch," Anita explained.

          "Looks like I'm not going to have much of a weekend, huh?" Devon said sarcastically.

          "Nope," Ed said, laughing.

          Devon smiled.  "Well, I need photos of Mathus, Jillian, and Jennifer, for starters," she said.  "And photos of the fibers and hair found on both bodies."

          "I'll get all that for you, Devon!" Tommy, an intern, called.

          "Oooh, you had better run," Ed whispered.  "You'll never see the end of that kid."  Devon laughed.


	4. Court

Ch. 4: Court

          "Mr. McCoy?" Devon yelled.  "Its Detective Cavanaugh!"

          "Come in!"

          Devon pushed the door open and wheeled the bulletin board she had been working on over the weekend into his office on Monday morning.

          "Here's your poster," she said.

          "Care to explain it to me?" he asked.

          Devon nodded.  "This woman, Jillian, was dating Eric Mathus for two months when she was murdered by a single blow to the back of the head.  The case has been left open ever since," she said, pointing to the picture of her sister.  "Then, ten years later, Jennifer Robbins dies in the same way, linked to the same man for two months prior.  He was the last person who saw her alive."

          Jack stood up and walked over to the bulletin board.  "But what do the fibers and hair have to do with anything?" he asked.

          "Fibers and hair were found on Jillian; the same fibers and hair were found on Jennifer.  The fibers came from the jacket Mathus was wearing and the hairs came from him," Devon explained.  "It all adds up!  Mathus killed both of these women!"

          "Unfortunately, the statute of limitations ran out five years ago for Jillian," Jack said, leaning on his desk.

          "I don't care," Devon said.  "At least her killer will be put away."

          "Instead of you almost being put away?" Jack asked.

          Devon shot him a worried look.  "What?"

          "After you left on Friday, I checked through my files to see where I had heard the name Cavanaugh," he said.  "I prosecuted you ten years ago for the murder of your sister Jillian."  He pointed to the photo of Jillian tacked to the board.  "I'm not stupid.  I wouldn't be a prosecutor if I was."  
          Devon could feel her palms start to sweat.  "And you trust me after all the crap you gave me about supposedly killing her?" she asked.

          "Obviously, if you're a cop, I have no reason _not _to trust you," Jack said.

          Devon let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.  "Well, that's just about all I have for you," she said.

          "Good work.  I'm going to need you to testify against Mathus next month," Jack said, going back behind his desk.

          "Grand jury included?" Devon asked, although she didn't know why.

          "Yes, grand jury included," Jack replied.  "I'll see you then."

          "You want me to leave this here?" Devon asked, pointing to the board.

          "If it's not too much trouble," Jack replied.

          "It was more trouble bringing it up here than it will be leaving it up here," Devon said, heading out the door.

(one month later)

          "Mr. McCoy? Would you like to call your next witness?" the judge asked.  Devon could feel herself tense up because she knew she was up after Ed.

          "Yes.  The people call Detective Devon Cavanaugh to the stand," Jack said, standing.

          Devon opened the gate and walked past Jack, stepping into the witness stand.

          "Please raise your right hand," the bailiff said.  "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

          "I do," Devon stated, trying hard not to roll her eyes at the 'so help you God'.  _So much for the separation of law and religion_, she thought.

          "Miss Cavanaugh," Jack said.  "You are a new detective at the 27th precinct, correct?" he asked.

          "Yes," Devon replied.

          "Just wanted to clarify.  Now, you made a large contribution to the evidence in this case, correct?" he asked.

          "Yes."

          "Would you please explain to the jury the poster you created to help explain what you discovered?" He handed Devon a pointer.

          "Sure," Devon said.  "Ten years ago, the 27th came across a case identical to this one.  Jillian Cavanaugh," she pointed to the photo of her sister, "was murdered in her bedroom.  One massive blow to the back of the skull caused severe bleeding, which killed her."  She moved the pointer over to the photograph of Jennifer Robbins and cleared her throat.  "A month and a half ago, Jennifer Robbins was murdered in her apartment."

          "And how was Ms Robbins murdered?" Jack asked.

          "A large blow to the back of the skull which caused severe bleeding.  Identical to that of Jillian Cavanaugh," Devon answered.

          "How did you figure out that it was the defendant who murdered these two women?" Mr. McCoy asked.

          "We found fibers and hair on the body of Jennifer Robbins that belonged to the defendant.  The same fibers and hair were found on Jillian Cavanaugh," Devon explained.

          "Thank you," the prosecutor said, turning around and taking his seat.  The defense attorney, Danielle Melnick, stood up.

          "Detective Cavanaugh, this is your first case with the 27th, correct?" she asked.

          "Yes," Devon said.

          "So how is it that you knew about the Jillian Cavanaugh case?"

          "I thought it would be a good idea to look for similar M.O.'s as the victim's.  So we checked back--"

          "But don't you normally check back only five years?" Miss Melnick asked.

          "Generally, but we checked back that far and found nothing.  We didn't really have any evidence at the time so we checked back further," Devon answered.

          The attorney nodded and leaned on the juror's box.  "Is Jillian Cavanaugh a relative of yours?"

          "Objection!" Jack yelled. "Relevance?"

          "Overruled," the judge said.

          Devon looked over and Jack, who nodded but seemed pissed off.  "Yes, she was my half sister," she replied.

          "Weren't you accused of murdering her ten years ago?"

          "Objection!"

          "Goes to credibility, Your Honor."

          The judge nodded.  "I'll allow it.  Answer the question, detective."

          Devon could feel her palms start to sweat.  "Yes, I was."

          "How is it that you're sitting here before us, then?" Miss Melnick asked, looking from me to the jury and back.

          "I wasn't convicted," Devon answered.

          "Why?"

          "The fibers and the hairs found on my sister's lifeless body because your client decided to kill her," Devon said, a stinging attitude in her voice.

          "This isn't a personal vendetta, is it, Detective Cavanaugh?" Miss Melnick asked.

          "Objection!" Jack yelled, practically jumping out of his seat.

          "Withdrawn." The defense attorney walked back over to her desk.  "No further questions."

          "You may step down, detective," the judge said.  Devon stepped out of the box and walked back to her seat, shaking and in dire need to hit something.


End file.
